


Your Lips Are Poison

by Nantai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Dark, BAMF Pansy Parkinson, F/M, Fairest of the Rare's Sing Me A Rare, Kingsley is a Good Man, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nantai/pseuds/Nantai
Summary: Pansy Parkinson had accepted early on that marriage for love was not in her cards, but she'll be damned if her marriage isn't at least useful for the cause. Kingsley Shacklebolt is the perfect victim in more than one way.





	Your Lips Are Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing-Me-A-Rare Volume 3. Much love to my Beta JuweWright, all remaining mistakes are my own!  
> Song Prompt - Poison by Alice Cooper
> 
> Additional Warnings:  
> Magical coercion of aesthetic and sexual attraction (that's what the Mildly Dubious Consent tag is for)  
> Passing mention of blood sacrifices and extreme violence

****Pansy was bored out of her wits by Tracey and Daphne prattling on about their upcoming marriages into old families from the continent. She did understand the importance of those alliances. If they intended to take over Britain, they’d need people backing them and looking away respectively. But both young women were still marrying for love, something that Pansy had learned early on was not in her cards.

Looking over to the adjacent corner of the lounge in Blaise’s townhouse where the Patil twins were huddled with Luna and Lavender, Pansy decided she did not want to know what put those kinds of smiles on their faces. Ever since the Patil twins had decided to become worshippers to Samhara Kali they had become a lot more blood-thirsty, as if the goddess herself had taken up residence in them.

Nobody knew what they had done to Fenrir Greyback when they had discovered him kneeling over the mauled Lavender, but Pansy had seen his body after and she still had nightmares.

And Lavender...Where the girl had been bubbly and downright annoying before that last year of school, she was now too quiet and her unseeing-seeing stare was enough to creep anyone out. Hermione had been very surprised when Lavender’s first prophecy after the war had come true and had lead to them founding a coven, but nobody doubted Lavender’s words ever again.

Luna on the other hand hadn’t changed much on the surface. She was maybe a bit less metaphorical and a bit more straightforward, but otherwise she seemed the same. That was until she performed one of her rituals. The power they all got from them was heady and so, so delicious, but nobody could accuse Luna of being air headed after they saw her chanting with a single-minded focus while blood streamed down her arms.

“Pansy, hey, Pansy,” Hermione tried to get her attention. “You don’t have a date for the Ministry’s Samhain ball, do you?”

“Of course I don’t have a date for that charade of a function,” Pansy sneered. “It has about as much to do with Samhain as Christmas has to do with Yule.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at her dramatics. “I know, but I need a date since neither Harry, nor Ron, nor the rest of the Gryffindors are talking to me.”

Pansy snickered. “Aw, do they think you have become too powerful?”

“It probably has more to do with the fact that I can’t believe they don’t intend to make any changes for the better, and only want to return to the state of affairs we had ten years ago,” Hermione griped, a scowl worthy of any Slytherin on her face. “So, would you go with me?”

“I hope there is alcohol and they don’t try to make us take part in a farce of a ritual,” Pansy said, sighing dramatically. “I would pity you for having to go, if your position in the Ministry wasn’t so damn important.”

“Well, it’s not like any of you or the boys would be welcome there,” Hermione said, sniffing. “They even shun Blaise, though neither his mother, nor he himself had any part in the atrocities of the war. Giulia wasn’t even in the country for the goddess’ sake!”

Daphne snorted. “Careful Granger, if they hear you talking like that at the Ministry you’re going to lose us our access.”

Hermione glared at Daphne. “If you think I slip up that easily, you’re sorely mistaken. As long as I don’t have to talk with the likes of dearest Umbridge, I’m fine.”

“Then let’s hope she’s not at the ball,” Tracey said with a sharp smile.

Pansy smiled thinly. As much as they sniped at each other now, the moment they entered the ball room they would be perfectly friendly, focussed on their goal. They didn’t have to like each other - even though Pansy and Hermione had formed a tentative friendship - to reach their goal, as far in the future as that may be.

* * *

Kingsley was bored out of his wits by Undersecretary Percy Weasley as the man prattled on about the latest reports and what they meant for the economy of Wizarding Britain. While it certainly was quite important, Kingsley did not understand why the man decided that the Ministry’s Samhain Ball was the best occasion to talk about such things. Kingsley looked down at his glass of Elfwine and discovered that he had already emptied it. 

“I’m so sorry, Percy,” Kingsley said with a forced smile. “I’ll be right back.” He held up his glass in explanation and vanished into the crowd.

Arriving at the bar without being stopped by anyone else Kingsley heaved a sigh of relief. He ordered a shot of Firewhiskey, even though he knew he had to be careful to stay sober.

He leaned back against the bar and just as he had taken the first sip of his drink Hermione appeared to his left with Pansy Parkinson in tow.

Kingsley was instantly captured by the two young women’s beauty. Hermione wore flowing green robes and a hat that were clearly inspired by Kenyan wizarding wear. Miss Parkinson wore sheer black robes over a tight black dress and heels so high that Kingsley was surprised she could walk in them. Pansy’s lips were tinged dark red and he could have sworn that she had somehow spelled her eyes to look bigger.

Noticing just how impolite it was to stare at two women nearly half his age, Kingsley stepped forward to greet Hermione.

“Oh Minister,” Hermione smiled and blushed. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem, and please call me Kingsley.”

“Of course, Kingsley. Do you know Pansy?”

“I don’t believe we had the pleasure yet,” Kingsley said, turning to the other witch with a broad smile, kissing the proffered hand. “How lovely to meet you.”

“I believe the pleasure is all mine,” Pansy said with a slow smile and turned to Hermione. “Would you mind me dancing for a bit?”

“No, not at all,” Hermione said with small smile. “Go, have fun.”

Kingsley downed the rest of his Firewhiskey. “Would you like to dance, Miss Parkinson?”

“Very much, Minister,” Pansy said, her eyes fixed on him as she took his arm.

They danced for two songs, their conversation surprisingly easy and open. Kingsley was glad that there seemed to be no lingering resentment for him or his side. On the contrary Pansy seemed to be quite happy to hear him talk about his friends from the Order and their techniques in fighting Voldemort.

Kingsley could admit to being captured by the charm of the vibrant young woman in his arm, even if she was fifteen years younger. But with every laugh he managed to coax from her lips and with every cheeky answer to his sarcastic remarks he felt like that was less and less important.

When they were interrupted by Percy Kingsley felt jealous resentment well up in him when he saw the younger man’s eyes trail over Pansy’s body. But nevertheless he had to excuse himself to make his speech about thankfulness and success reaped in this year.

“Will I see you later?” Kingsley asked, already half-turning to walk to the podium.

Pansy smiled broadly. “Maybe, if you want to.”

“I do,” Kingsley found himself saying, his eyes flicking to the witch’s lips as she was speaking.

“Then I’ll find you after your speech,” Pansy said, stepping closer. “Good luck.”

Her lips were inches away from his cheek and Kingsley felt her warm breath send shivers across his skin.

* * *

Hermione waited at the bar when Pansy returned and even though she seemed to pay rapt attention to the Minister’s speech, Pansy knew she would hear every word said around her too.  
“Did you get him?”

“It was almost pathetically easy,” Pansy sighed, taking the proffered glass of Elfwine. “I probably wouldn’t even have needed the lipstick.”

Hermione chuckled. “Men are always easy. A few charms in the right places and they give you everything. Women on the other hand…”

“So Narcissa is still resistant?” Pansy asked, one perfect eyebrow raised doubtfully.

“Quite,” Hermione said with a moue of distaste in her voice. “But she _is_ the last heir to the Black mansion so we need her and nobody else.”

“I know,” Pansy sighed. “I heard Draco complain about it more than once.”

“I think you have to get going if you want to wait for him when he’s done,” Hermione remarked with a nod to the stage.

Pansy nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow I guess?”

“Of course.” Hermione put their glasses on the counter and took Pansy’s hand in her own. “Morrigan protect us, Macha lead us, Badb favour us. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” Pansy answered in an equally hushed voice. They shared a quick smile and then Pansy was making her way across the dance floor and backstage.

The Aurors guarding the entrance didn’t even try to question her and when a more eager, young witch tried to stop her, Pansy made short work of that with a well-placed _Confundus_ Charm. She climbed the steps to the stage and waited at the edge until the Minister turned and his eyes fell on her, taking her form in hungrily.

When Pansy’s mother had insisted she should learn how to spell cloth that would capture every man’s gaze Pansy had resisted at first. Not that that mattered to Posy, she had simply hexed and bribed Pansy until she had agreed to learn the charms.  
Now she was glad to have that knowledge. She smiled broadly as the Minister came over to her with long, elegant strides. Pansy had to admit that he wasn’t bad to look at and while he was frighteningly easy to manipulate she doubted he’d resort to violence in an argument. He would be a good, powerful husband who she could use to further the cause - he would certainly cooperate willingly.

“A rousing speech, Minister,” Pansy said with a smile she knew looked private and promised certain actions. She had practiced it in front of the mirror.

Shacklebolt smiled tightly. “What do you think about getting out of here ?”

Pansy swallowed her surprise, she hadn’t expected him to be so forward. Had the charms on her lips and clothes been too strong after all? “That sounds lovely, where shall we go?”

“How about my flat? I have a curry under a stasis-charm and chilled mango juice,” Shacklebolt suggested with a shy smile as he ushered her down the steps.

“I don’t think I could ever say no to being wined and dined by a handsome man,” Pansy said with a light-hearted chuckle that too was perfectly practiced. She did wonder what the Minister was planning and why he was practically fleeing from the function. But for now she was content to go along with his plan.

* * *

They indeed wined and dined, but as the evening grew into night Kingsley became more nervous. These things...this witch was otherworldly beautiful and her mind as captivating as her body. At the function she clearly had kept herself in check, because as they finished their meal and migrated to the couch, each with a glass of mango juice (wine simply didn't go with this curry), she became more lively and outspoken. Kingsley found himself ever more drawn to her, especially her deep red lips, that were just asking to be kissed.

But she was so much younger! She had to be just over twenty, Harry turned twenty-one in summer and she had been his classmate. But Pansy still was a young woman! He had no right to want her and he would not act on his body's demands - Kingsley was an adult man for Merlin's sake, not a hormone-driven youth!

“Is there something on your mind?” Pansy's soft, soothing voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I'm tired,” Kingsley said with a chuckle that just barely covered his embarrassment. “What did you say?”

“I asked,” Pansy drawled, amusement touching her voice and the corners of her eyes. “Would you like to take me out for dinner tomorrow night?”

Kingsley startled. “Why- I- Would you like me to?” he asked somewhat dumbfounded.

It was Pansy's turn to chuckle, her eyes flicking down to her hands that still held her empty glass. “I think so. I do enjoy your company very much, but you seem to be a bit distracted. Maybe a proper date would be best? To get to know each other I mean!”

As she looked up Kingsley's gaze caught on her lips again. They looked soft, as if made for kissing and yet - there was the problem.

“I do not think that would be a good idea,” Kingsley whispered to his hands. “You're so much younger than me. The power imbalance is atrocious not to speak of the way the media would treat you, if they caught wind of this.”

Pansy scooted closer and took one of his hands in hers. “Is that your only concern? That I'll not be able to stand up to you because you're older, a former auror and Minister of Magic? That the media is going to hound me?”

Kingsley stared at her thin, white hand on his broad, brown one. He didn't dare answer.

Pansy snorted mirthlessly. “They already hound me for my family name and my presumed affiliation in the war. I'm good at slipping away from them. And let me assure you: If the Carrows taught me one thing, it was how to fight someone bigger and more skilled than me.”

Kingsley looked up at her, startled, and saw her bitter smile. “What-?”

“Not what you're thinking. But let's say they weren't overly fond of my reluctance to torture first years.”

Still staring at Pansy, Kingsley turned his hand so he could gently envelope hers. “Promise me that you'll say ‘No’ when I do something you don't want me to do. Anything. I'll heed your word as command and I swear you're always free to go.”

Pansy smiled, delight bringing out a small dimple on her left cheek (oh, how he wanted to kiss it). “I promise. And I promise you we'll be careful about the press. At the moment you don't need the hassle of paparazzi with that law on Underage Magic coming up.”

Kingsley returned her smile and watched it turn soft. “Thank you. In that case I would be delighted to introduce you to my favourite Greek restaurant tomorrow night. Although…”

Pansy cocked her left eyebrow in challenge and teasing. “What is it?”

“It's in the muggle world - will that be a problem?”

Kingsley waited with bated breath as Pansy contemplated her answer, his eyes involuntarily wandering to her pursed lips again. Those lips would be the death of him!

Pansy smiled slowly at him as she caught his gaze. “I will be fine, I think, as long as there aren't too many people.”

“Wonderful!” Kingsley said, refusing to acknowledge the heat in his cheeks at being caught staring. “Should I pick you up or would you like to come here?”

“I'll come to your flat first,” Pansy said, still smiling in a way that drove him near crazy. “Say, would you kiss me goodnight before I leave?”

As innocently as she asked, Kingsley could see the wicked spark in her eyes and he was not entirely sure it was a pleasant one.

“Of course, dear one,” Kingsley said nevertheless, pulling her up from the couch by her hand.

Kingsley rested his left hand on Pansy's cheek, softly stroking back and forth. “May I kiss you?”

Her answer was barely above a whisper, but as soon as the soft “Yes” had passed her lips Kingsley dove in and kissed her firmly. As he had imagined her lips were soft, but she did not submit to him. Just like their dance earlier in the evening had been no fight for power this kiss wasn't either. Pansy returned his kiss firmly and gently, moving in amazing synchronicity for their first time.

They parted for air, but neither of them strayed far, their foreheads and noses still touching. As they caught their breath, Pansy's eyes met his and she slowly lifted her arms around his neck.

“May I kiss you?” she whispered, echoing his words back at him.

“Yes,” Kingsley answered just as quietly, his voice suddenly quite hoarse.

Pansy pecked him on the lips softly. “Thank you, for this wonderful evening and for agreeing to tomorrow.”

Kingsley nodded his head, careful not to jostle her in the process. His hands were resting on her sides now and he had to resist the temptation to push further. They had time. This incredible witch wanted to date him. Properly.

“Can you give me your floo address? And when should I be here tomorrow?”

Pansy still spoke softly, as if to avoid breaking the moment, so Kingsley followed suit. “I'll write it down for you in a moment, and I'd say half past five sounds like a good time.”

They stood there for a while longer, holding each other and swaying a bit.

“I have to get going,” Pansy finally said.

“Yes, you should,” Kingsley agreed without moving.

Pansy sighed and pulled back a bit. “Until tomorrow then.”

“May I kiss you one last time?” Kingsley asked, sounding nearly shy to his own ears.

Pansy smiled a bit wider. “Sure.”

They shared one last, soft kiss before they finally disentangled themselves and Kingsley went to write down his address for Pansy. When the green flames of the floo had consumed her form, Kingsley flopped back onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

What was he doing? Desiring and, even worse, dating a witch nearly half his age?! Those were dangerous desires and yet Kingsley could not shake those lovely, firm lips from his mind. They were poison, and yet he did not care to find an antidote.

* * *

Pansy was decidedly no morning person and if she didn't have her Yasmin tea she wouldn't even consider herself human. It took her two cups to wake up enough to join into the discussion in the breakfast lounge. When Blaise saw her looking around he grinned.

“Finally awake, Aurora?” he asked with a cheeky wink and a toast from his cup of coffee.

“No reason to be so awfully cheerful,” Pansy grouched, but years at the Slytherin table and three years of living together had taught Blaise not to take her seriously in the morning.

“How was your night with the Minister?” Daphne asked sweetly. “He seemed in quite a hurry to leave.”

“Not that kind of night if she's here in the morning,” Theo remarked without looking up from the Russian newspaper he was reading. “But when you see him next please ask him what he wants to do about that mess in Chechnya. I want to know if we will interfere or not.”

“The Ministry won't act on their own,” Hermione said with a frown, pointing her knife at Theo. “Unless the Americans or Germans act first there will be no move to help. So, yes, Theo, you will have the dreadful job of charming the Russian Minister's wife again.”

“I'll see what I can do tonight,” Pansy said confidently, effectively shutting everyone up.

“Did you just say tonight?” Padma asked, her head cocked in curiosity.

Pansy smiled coldly. “I did. Just because I didn't fuck him doesn’t mean I don't have him right where I want him.” That she said with a glare in Theo's direction. “We're going to a Greek muggle restaurant tonight. I had to give him time to get used to the idea.”

“She's right, Kingsley is too good a man to immediately fall into bed with a much younger woman,” Giulia Zabini said, entering the lounge. “But if he's smitten enough to take you to his favourite restaurant you did everything right. Good girl.”

Pansy stared at the oldest member of their coven. “How do you-?”

“It's my business to know everything,” Giulia said with a small smile that held no warmth. “Tell me, Hermione dear, how is Narcissa coming along?”

Pansy tuned out the rest of the conversation in favour of basking in the appreciation from Giulia.

Suddenly Luna appeared next to her. “Lavender wants to see you in her room.”

Pansy nodded and stood up. With a short smile to Theo who raised his eyebrow at her she left to go upstairs. Everyone had rooms in the Casa Zabini but only Hermione, Pansy and Theo lived here permanently. The rest of them alternated between their parents’ houses or their lovers’ homes. Lavender seldom slept in the house though, preferring her old room at her parents’ so it was a surprise to be summoned this early in the morning.

Upon entering the room Pansy immediately felt a powerful presence wrapping around her, feeling and prodding more or less gently.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Lavender said quietly, turning away from the open window. The sunlight from behind threw her face into a harsh profile. “I had a dream tonight, concerning your engagement to the Minister.”

“Oh Morgana, that doesn't sound too promising,” Pansy sighed and settled down on the bed. “What did you see?”

“You will be happy with Kingsley, happier than you dare imagine even now,” Lavender said with a smile and in a reassuring tone. “But you'll face some hardships. I'm not talking about the smear campaign the press will run against you, Hermione'll deal with that when it comes to it. No, there will be three attempts on your life before your wedding. I cannot tell you when or who. Only that they're needed to make Kingsley completely devoted to you.”

“Will he be amenable to favouring our cause?” Pansy asked clinically.

“He'll be somewhat resistant at first, but you'll soon not even need the charms.” Lavender took a deep breath and stepped forward to take Pansy's hands. “But there is one thing…”

“What is it?” Pansy asked impatiently, not too happy about the Seer's dramatics.

“You'll never have children of your own,” Lavender said solemnly.

Pansy snorted. “Well, thank the gods. I never wanted to.”

Lavender frowned. “But...you cried when they told you?”

“After one of the attempts, huh?” Pansy asked contemplatively. “Well for one that's taking away my choice and that's also the reaction medical staff would expect after such news.”

Lavender inclined her head. “That sounds logical. I hope you have fun at your date tonight.”

Pansy took that as the dismissal it was and left the room with a quiet goodbye.

o0o

Pansy pulled her favourite muggle dress out of the bewitched wardrobe and searched for the fitting earrings, spelled to keep her victim’s attention on her. Applying the lipstick with the charm to enchant suitors Pansy smiled at herself. She looked radiant and if she was still living with her mother she would be very proud of her little flower.

Turning away from the mirror Pansy summoned her handbag and the coat she was going to wear. If she arrived at the restaurant without either in late October she would seem strange and Pansy could not accept that.

Satisfied Pansy slipped into her ankle boots and with a last look at her mirror left for the floo.

After at least twenty fireplaces had whooshed past her Pansy stepped gracefully out of the fireplace at Kingsley's and nearly into the man himself, who was waiting in front of the floo.

He smiled broadly and opened his arms to hug her to his lovely, broad chest. Pansy stepped into the embrace with a smile that wasn't forced at all.

“Good evening, you look lovely as ever!” Kingsley said into Pansy's ear and she didn't even have to fake the shiver that ran down her back.

“Good evening to you too, handsome,” Pansy purred. “Ready to go?”

“Nearly,” Kingsley answered with a wink. “May I kiss you?”

Pansy grinned. “You may.” 

As they kissed Kingsley apparated them to a dark muggle alley in a stunning feat of magic. Pansy had to hide her satisfied smile at the display of power which was clearly intended to impress her. She took the proffered arm and followed Kingsley out onto the lantern lit street. Against her expectation Pansy was immediately charmed by the small, old houses with their Halloween decorations out, a Jack-O-Lantern flickering on nearly every doorstep. They didn't have to go far before the restaurant came into sight and soon they entered the well-lit dining room, filled with chatter and heavenly smells.

They ordered quickly and Pansy looked around curiously when they were done. She hadn't spent much time in the muggle world so far, nearly none beyond a few shopping trips with Hermione and the one memorable occasion when they had gone to an opera. Pansy had never been in a muggle village and much less in a completely normal restaurant.

"Are you alright, love?" Kingsley asked, his deep voice smooth and soft.

Pansy smiled and took the hand he had put on the table. "I'm good, just quite curious. I'm not exactly used to this setting."

"I'll try and answer your questions, but even I don't know everything," Kingsley said, gently squeezing her hand. 

Taking a deep breath Pansy remembered Lavender's words from earlier in the day and told herself to relax. It would be fine. She would be happy. 

Their food came and just like the evening before they conversed easily and freely. Kingsley didn't hold back on any stories from the war and told her a few anecdotes from his days as prefect and later Auror. When he confided in Pansy that he would actually prefer to be Head of the DMLE Pansy smiled as if she understood that wish while she privately thought that he made way too good a figurehead to be wasted on that small a position. When she asked him about Chechnya his face darkened for the first time.

"The muggle Prime Minister is unexpectedly...resistant to employ people to help with the situation," Kingsley said, his gaze fixed on his glass of wine. "I already talked to representatives of the Volshebnyy Kreml but they're sadly very much in accordance with the Russian muggles. Understandable after Stalin and his people. But I wish we could do something! The Americans won't get involved, they're busy in Iraq and Afghanistan, and Germany won't move if the US doesn't."

"Have you thought about working directly with the regional government?" Pansy asked, leaning forward with interest. Even if Kingsley wasn't interested in the post as Minister, he was quite good at it. 

Kingsley shook his head grimly. "No way in or out without the Russians knowing. The borders aren't officially sealed, but that's only a matter of time." He took a long sip from his glass. "I wish I could do something, but politically my hands are tied."

Pansy nodded with real sympathy. "It's a shitty situation." Theo would want to know about this and Pansy was certain that Daphne could use her in with the old Russian families to get some movement in the matter, but at the moment they couldn't do much more without giving themselves away. 

After Kingsley settled the bill Pansy excused herself to freshen up before they left, they thought about going to a muggle nightclub. As Pansy was reapplying her lipstick the wild song playing from the speakers in the corner caught her ear and she had to smile at her reflection when she heard the chorus.

> _I wanna love you but I better not touch,  
>  _
> 
> _I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop,  
>  _
> 
> _I wanna kiss you but I want it too much,  
>  _
> 
> _I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison,  
>  _
> 
> _You're poison, running through my veins_ _._

Humming along she left the restroom and smiled when she saw Kingsley waiting for her at their table. Pansy had certainly captured herself a very useful future husband and she knew that he was already halfway in love with her. It didn't hurt that she could imagine loving him back some day. 

"May I kiss you?"

Pansy huffed a laugh. "You may."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I enjoyed writing it so very much and I'm tempted to write a follow-up oneshot for Hermione/Narcissa - what do you think?  
> You can find the aesthetic and the playlist for this story on my tumblr: evolutionsbedingt.tumblr.com


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